A Time Bomb
by fandom llama
Summary: Sherlock is struggling to find John after he gets captured while taking a walk, but John isn't himself when he is found. Included Brainwashed!John with slight whump.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer, I don't own Sherlock_

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Sherlock was stumped, as John would like to say. He didn't have any idea on what was happening in his new case. He spent hours lying motionless on the couch in his signature position, his hands tucked under his chin. Sherlock would occasionally frown or mutter, but nothing more. God knows what's going on in his mind palace. John had no choice but to sit and watch his flatmate as he began to grow bored. Sherlock had scolded him for playing the telly as to 'distracts him' so he could only lay on his comfy chair and wait for the dark haired man to speak.

Things were a lot different in Sherlock's mind palace. Words and object whizzed past him. He could only focus on one thing- solving the case John had called "Turned Tables," which was very good choice of words.

He needed to find out as much about each victim as he could. He needed to know their friends, their relatives, their enemies. Their secrets.

The case first began when a young woman, in her twenties, suddenly murdered her husband of 6 years and her 3 children by strangling them. However, she had no memory of it. The woman, named Faith Gallello, was found unconscious next to her dead family and was bawling when the doctors had explained what happened. Gallello was sent to a mental hospital as soon as she was released from the hospital.

A week later a similar incident had occured.

A man named Kevin Yung had killed his engaged girlfriend and his close brother soon after. Death by stabbing. He was also found unconscious and unaware of what had happened. What made the case even more difficult was the fact that both were clean, no criminal records, perfectly normal, and their friends or sibling all stated how they were close to the people they had killed. So why would they murder them?

Sherlock felt his brow furrow in frustration for the third time that evening as he continued to scratch out possibilities one by one.

"This isn't RIGHT."

He didn't notice that he had talked out loud until John cleared his throat.

"Um," John coughed slightly. "I do believe you should get something to eat. Just something real quick, maybe some quick Chinese takeaway. You haven't eating anything and-"

"John, do shut up. You're only distracting me. Besides, food only slows my thinking down." Sherlock stated coldly. He hadn't even opened his eyes.

The blond haired man sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm only trying to help, Sherlock. You'll get ill if you don't eat.

"Well, stop because you're only slowing me down." He didn't mean to sound so harsh. Sherlock almost wanted to apologize, but he kept quiet.

There was no reply. Sherlock opened his eyes and turned to the doctor, who had his head facing to the ground. John sighed again and stood up, walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Had he upset him by accident? John should know he didn't mean it, he never meant anything like that.

"I'm going for a walk." John grabbed his coat and quickly put it over his blue jumper.

The door creaked open and was slammed when the short man had walked through it.

Sherlock sat up and stared at the door, thinking. He was debating whether he should go after John or not. After a couple of minutes of pondering, he decided that he'd text him later.

* * *

John scoffed as he continued straight.

"I can't believe him..." He muttered softly, shaking his head.

He kept walking the pavement but stopped when he heard a faint sound of some young boy crying in a narrow part between two buildings.

"Is... Is everything alright?" He called out.

The crying continued.

John turned and took a step into the darkness, hesitated a bit, and shuffled deeper. He could only see the outline of a trash can. Maybe the boy was behind it. John moved in closer.

"I won't hurt you- I can take you back to your parents if you are lost."

Then it stopped. It didn't grow softer, it was just cut off. It was silent aside for the cars passing by.

Before John could question anything or turn around, a strong pair of hand grabbed him from behind and he felt something metal bash against his head.

As the world was beginning to be clouded in black spots he felt something being shoved into his mouth, a small pill of some sort, and was forced to swallow. His mouth grew dry and he couldn't scream. The man, (it could've been a woman, he wasn't sure) let John fall out of his tight grip.

The doctor was unconscious before he hit the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

It took a few hours for Sherlock to notice something was wrong.

He wasn't really worried in the first hour, he had thought John might of gotten distracted or something of the sort, as he usually did. The detective was more bored than worried, but took the opportunity of the empty flat to reach into the couch cushions and light some cigarets. Sherlock happily inhaled the grey smoke and went back to trying to figure out the case, leaning into the chair in his signature thinking pose.

It was an hour later when he arose from his mine-palace. The curly-haired man was surprised when he didn't see John in his armchair or hear him decided to call his flat-mate and see if something was holding him back, (_But definitely not to apologize, Sherlock thought_) and was greeted with an unwanted voicemail which he quickly dismissed.

_He'll be coming back to apologize in 10 minutes max, I bet he will. _He thought.

In the second hour, he was slightly annoyed that John hadn't come back to the flat by the time he had deduced he would. Sherlock called John another time, and was still given the voicemail.

By the third hour, Sherlock was panicking, He called John not once more, but _three _times more_, _each leaving him with the same artificially cheerful message-

"Hi, this is Dr. Watson speaking, I am not here at the moment but leave a message and I'll be right back to you."

Sure, he would miss client's calls or his friend's calls, but John never missed his calls, so of course this could mean anything. John could be more upset than Sherlock thought, or maybe he left with his phone uncharged. The doctor got distracted easily, so maybe he stopped on his way back for something. Sherlock ran his fingers through his curled hair and put the cigar back between his lips.

_I can't believe this. You're getting worked up over your flat-mate, there's nothing to be worried about. He's fine. _Sherlock sighed and slouched back into his chair.

Half an hour later, filled with gunshots to the wall and smoke from grey cigars, clouding the room, Sherlock's phone chimed. He was relieved, but his small grin quickly faded when he read the message illuminating from the device.

[Message Sent from: IPHONE] [ (250) 8519-715145 ] (Sherlock made a side note to himself asking why the phone number had incorrect digits)

_"__I think I now know why you stick with your little pet all the time. He's suuuuch a pleasure to be with. It's too bad he won't be seeing you again~ _

_-JM"_

Underneath the text was a link to a picture. Sherlock grimaced before opening it.

The image was very fuzzy and pixelated, but clear enough to make out the surroundings. The walls were grey in color, and so was the floor, which seemed to be concrete. Sherlock didn't mind much of that hough, because one thing stood out, and that was the small crumpled form lying in the corner of what seemed to be a cell or small room.

The detective had never been more afraid in his life.

His only friend, John Watson, had been captured by the most intelligent criminal in London. And it was his fault.

For once in his life, Sherlock didn't know what to do. He didn't know if he could save John, he didn't even know if he was alive.

Moriarty had said he wouldn't be seeing him again, but why would he send a picture of him? Obviously he wants Sherlock to be playing his little 'games,' as he had made him do in the past. His enemy knew that the quickest way to get him playing would be to threaten John.

His John, he thought.

How could he be so stupid? Sherlock had been such an arsehole to him, if only he had kept his stupid mouth shut none of this would have happened. He would be sitting here babbling about the case while John sat in his now empty chair drinking tea, but instead he was stuck with the worrying thought that his friend was dead.

Sherlock pressed the heels of his palms against his blue eyes and sat down. Just as he was rubbing his eyes, his mobile chimed loudly in his pocket.

Caller ID: (250) 8519-715145. Press 1 to decline. Press 2 to answer. Press 3 to block.

Sherlock smashed "2" without hesitating.

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**A/N: I'm so sorry I had gotten caught up in life and all I barely had time to make the next chapter! I'll try and make the next one longer! **


	3. Chapter 3

"_Hey there, Sherly~_"

Sherlock's nose crumpled up at the sound of that familiar innocent sounding voice. Although he knew who it was before the voice spoke, it sent a chill up his spine.

"You know, there are other ways to contact me."

The detective did his best to sound calm and unamused, but it didn't take a genius to see how his voice shook.

"_What you miss your pet already? Can't we play a little longer_?" Moriarty spoke in a mocking high voice which sent a rush of adrenaline in Sherlock's veins.

He knew that there was a reason for this, whether it was for entertainment or not.

"What do you want for him."

The detective was expecting anything but what he said. A trade, a bargain, _anything._

_"For you to come find him. Come to Down Street, he'll be waiting."_

The line clicked once, and fell dead.

He pressed buttons quickly, not in the mood for his 'games', and growled when he heard

"This number does not exist, please re-enter the digits to ensure your call. Thank you." in a robotic response.

Sherlock yelled and stomped his foot angrily before grabbing his coat, a gun, and his scarf as he ran out the door.

As he waved his arm around, signaling a cab, he pulled out his phone once again,

"_Sherlock, this better be important. I'm…busy._"

"No you aren't you've just began to eat a cake, which isn't a wise decision if you want Gavin -uhm, Greg- to notice you. Now, put down the fork and listen to me because Mycroft…." Sherlock grimaced before finishing.

"I need your help."

—

When John opened his eyes, he vaguely felt a brush on his side.

"This better not be one of Sherlock's bloody experiments, he said he would stop using his damned tests on me ages ago," John thought.

He blinked slowly, trying to get rid of the spots around his eyes, and groaned when he found he couldn't turn over. The doctor felt as if he was wrapped in a tight blanket.

John tried to speak, but it came out muffled as if his mouth was stuffed in cotton. He had a huge headache and right above the nape of his neck felt sore and damp. The blond hair was now stuck together in clumps of dried blood and dirt, but his face was slightly damp.

He tried moving again, and more dark spots clouded his vision. When he looked up to see he was in a white room that smelled strongly of disinfectant he knew he wasn't with Sherlock.

John weakly thrashed when he felt the 'thing' brush against his arm, but was somehow soothed when a voice told him

_"__Now now John, we wouldn't want you getting hurt again would we?"_

The doctor felt something stroking his hair, and it was almost… comforting. A rag wiped gently at his face, carefully washing away the dirt and grime.

His eyes closed once more at what sounded like "Jack and Jill" being hummed softly and darkness surrounded him completely.

Moriarty knew Sherlock would be coming soon, so he couldn't have 'fun' with his new toy. It was tempting to see John's reactions with different tools, he had just boughten a new set of surgical knifes, but he would have to leave him unscratched for this project.

The mastermind knew his plan had begun setting into place when John snuggled into him instead of flinching away at the touches.

_What a loyal pet._

_It's a shame that he'll lose his master._

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**A/N I knew I said this would be a longer chapter, I'm sorry! I'll try and update more often! Please say which part you liked the most and what else you want to see next!I'll do mostly anything except for Non Con or smut, sorry! Anyways, have fun waiting for the next chapter! **

**~ FANA**

**2nd A/N**

**Sorry, I changed some parts! I'll try and update more often, I've been super super busy! Sorry guys! I think I might just finish the whole story and update it al at once, but that'll probably mean a longer wait. Just tell me what you'd like me to do in the comments**


	4. Chapter 4

John woke up to yelling and frantic shaking. He groaned and turned his head to look at the person who was doing so. Dark and what seemed to be panicked eyes looked into his. The eyes were familiar, yet he couldn't tell whose they belonged to. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't realize that the man was talking to him.

"Are you okay dear? We need to leave, quickly. I'll explain it better to you later, but you've been missing for 3 days and I've just found you here. You might be drugged, I'm not sure. I-I don't know know took you, but I did see that curly-haired man run earlier." The man spoke in a rushed and quivering voice.

Before he could speak, the stranger pulled out a bottle of white pills from his pocket, and handed them to John.

"I don't know if you remember me, you haven't taken your medication in a while. Take two of those and you'll feel better. Hurry, before he comes back."

John took out the pills and hesitantly put them in his mouth, and almost instantly felt a rush of energy surge through him. He could vaguely remember things, the curly haired man being the most memorable (he wasn't sure if he was bad or good, but bad was more likely.) and the man in front of him- Jim, his name was, -being second.

Jim grabbed the pills from him, shoved it in his pocket, and helped John up. John staggered, and his rescuer allowed him to lean on him for balance. He limped against Jim as they staggered away from what appeared to be a cell.

_Talk about old fashioned,_ he thought.

Jim talked to him throughout their 'trip,' filling him in on things. He explained how John was his lover, and they'd met a year after he's been in Afghanistan (Which he unfortunately remembered.) He told him that the curly haired man had been following them for a while, but it wasn't until now that he had done something harmful to them. _No wonder I remember him so well, that bastard._

As John processed the information he was being fed, he didn't notice the note that had been dropped behind them, marked with a 'JM'.

* * *

Jim brought John to a small and cozy flat with one bed, a desk with what looked like scribblings and pictures on them,a hallway which lead to what looked like a bathroom, and a small kitchen.

"This is our home, it's a bit small but that's what you've always preferred."

Jim led John into the bathroom, where he began undressing John.

John inhaled sharply at being touched, he knew it was his lover, but why now? He surely wasn't going to… Before he could continue his thoughts, he realized he was slowly turning a deep shade of red.

Jim looked up at John and chuckled slightly.

"Oh no love, don't worry. I'm just going to wash you off so we can go to bed. We've had a long day."

Slightly blushing, John watch Jim turn on the bath into a steamy but comfortable temperature and help him in.

They sat in silence, John looking down as his hair was shampooed and his head wound cleaned by his…boyfriend? Husband? He wasn't sure.

He cleared his throat, talking for the first time he had woken up. "Do we-, um," John coughed, shocked at the raspy sound coming from his own mouth, and continued. "Do we usually do this?"

Jim smiled. "Not often, but on special occasions, yes."

The two of them were quiet the rest of the bath, the only noise the sloshing of the dirty water inside the tub. After John was given another jumper which fit him perfectly, which was strange since he'd always preferred larger ones, the two of them lie down in bed positioned in a way that Jim's arm was protectively curled around John. John fell asleep long after his assumed lover did, as he was lost in his own thoughts, hoping that everything would go back to normal, however that was, soon.

* * *

Of course he would. It's never that easy with him, the madman.

Sherlock had arrived as fast as he could when he stumbled upon a crumpled notebook paper instead of his belonged flat-mate.

"_Remember how I told you I could be changeable? Your pet just looked so cute, I had to have some extra playtime. Don't worry, he'll be safe with me. I'll make sure not to make him scream to loud, we wouldn't want that lovely voice to strain would we? _

_ Lots of love, _

_ J.M._"

Sherlock had yelled and stomped in frustration, and even thought he knew that wouldn't help anything he somehow felt slightly better afterwards. He shoved the note into his pocket and marched forward, making a decision he knew he would regret.

* * *

**Okay, don't kill me, I know this is such a short chapter and I know I haven't been updating but I've been super busy, I've been having huge family issues, blah blah blah. I've decided to maybe pull a Hussie and finish the whole story at one time but post it separately. It would take longer, but as soon as I'm finished I'll post regularly (about once a week) and in longer chapters. Leave a review of the story and/or what you think of my plan so i can decide. I'll start working on the next part right after I upload this, and I'll try to keep updating. Thank for reading!**

**~~FANA**

Edit: You guys are lucky today! Originally, this was going to be even shorter, but I found out I hadn't published it yet and decided to add a bit more. Sorry it;s still short, but it's better than 300 words which was planned. Anyways, thanks for reading and don't forget to leave a review!


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